


Not Good

by ihavealotofwords



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: After The Initial Incident With The Pollen, Age Difference, At First Because Of The Pollen, Blind Al Doesn't Have Time For Your Shit, Finding Yourself Story, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Fuck Or Die, Gwen Is Amazing, Gwen Is God Damn Amazing, He Dwells On It A Lot, M/M, Mentions Of One-Sided Peter Parker/Bruce Banner, Mentions of Past Child Molestation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Really Underage Since Peter Is 17, Only The Canon Instances, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter has a crush, Sex Pollen, Sex Pollen Aftermath, Slow Burn, Wade Is Insecure, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, mentions of past rape, not in detail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavealotofwords/pseuds/ihavealotofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The slow progress of things being not good to okay to everything being alright, and everything in between. Peter learns a lot about himself, and Wade, and life. All because of one little accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For possible trigger warnings, please see the end note.
> 
> I kinda wanted to write a slow build up between Wade and Peter, but also got to thinking about the consequences and the long-term aftermath of accidental sex pollen and this was born? Idk. It's 2AM and this is probably really bad already.
> 
> Can also be found on my tumblr [here](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/122574957595/not-good-chapter-1) .

“Oh, shi-! Not good.” Iron Man’s voice crackled through the temporary com line he had handed Peter when Spiderman had shown up on the scene.

‘Not good’ could pretty much sum up the situation. In fact, anything that the Avengers called Spiderman in for as back-up was definitely ‘not good’ material. In general, they kept to themselves. The Avengers handled the big guys- alien invasions, genocide attempts, widespread destruction type of situations. Peter took care of the streets, stopping robberies, fires, small-time gangs. Really, even Dr. Connors had been small-time, compared to the things the Avengers dealt with. As long as Peter didn’t mess up too badly and get people hurt, the Avengers let him be. At least, they had given up threatening to arrest him or discover his identity, so he counted that as a win.

It had been Captain America, Steve Rogers himself, that had suggested giving Peter a spare com device. In case of emergencies, when they needed all the help they could get. They rarely used it, but Peter kept it on him at all times. Just in case.

‘Just in case’ this time meant a full assault on the Avenger’s Tower itself. What Peter had gathered- from snippets of conversation over the com- was that someone had managed to disable Jarvis for a few seconds. That was all anyone needed to get in. Peter had taken a look at as much of Jarvis’ coding as he was allowed (not nearly even a fraction of it all), and Jarvis literally controlled the entire building. One slip in his defense, and everything was left wide open.

Not that it was easy- or even possible, Peter had thought- to get through Jarvis. Whoever they were up against knew their stuff, and knew it well.

Jarvis was good though. From Peter’s vantage point, perched high up on a building across the street, he could see that the AI had begun to shut down the Tower, floor by floor. The uppermost levels were secure, cleared of all personnel and locked up tight. The lower floors had been cleared quickly by Hawkeye and Black Widow. It was the middle floors that were the problem. The Stark Industries’ employees had been going down, and the intruders had been making their way up, and they met in a standoff in the middle. Security was holding the intruders back, but they were pushing hard. The employees had nowhere to go.

The number one priority was getting the civilians out safely. Iron Man couldn’t just bust through the window and risk open fire. The others couldn’t come up from behind, lest the civilians be taken as hostages.

But if there was one thing Peter was good at, it was climbing walls. Walls, windows, scaffolding- you name it, he could climb it. And with the others providing a distraction, he hoped to slip in unnoticed and take the enemy leader out. Maybe rescue some of the civilians if he could, or at least create an opening for the Avengers to do so.

Peter stepped off the building, webbing his was over to the Tower. He thumped against the glass windows several floors below the red zone.

The com sprang to life again. “Spiderman, do you read?” That was Cap’s voice (he had been the only one to welcome Peter, insisting that he “call me Steve, please,” but it was too much for Peter’s little fanboy heart, so he had settled on the nickname instead). “We’re sending- ….look….. –ful….” Cap’s words crackled, barely discernible through the white noise.

“What is it?” he asked as he began to scale the Tower. “Captain?” He winced as the com suddenly shrieked in his ear, unsticking one hand from the window to claw it out of his suit. It fell while he clutched at his ear. “Great,” he grumbled. He couldn’t get in touch with the others now, until he managed to get inside and get a hold of Jarvis. The enemy had to have a signal jammer set up or something. Iron Man had considered it a possibility.

Peter sighed and resumed climbing. There was a vent entrance that Iron Man had told him about, one that he could jiggled open and use to wiggle inside. Sure enough, he found it level with the 47th floor, just like he had been told. He ripped the cover open and crawled inside, silently praying that he had managed it without being seen.

The vents were quiet, and surprisingly spacious, but Peter chalked that up to Iron Man’s pandering to Hawkeye’s weird love affair with crawlspaces. The metal under him was thick, but Peter still took every movement slow, doing everything in his power not to make any loud noises. He peered through the grates he passed, checking every room swiftly and silently, until he found one that was occupied.

Eight men and women, all clad in Stark Industries uniforms, were huddled against the back wall of the room. They flinched when Peter opened the vent and dropped down, but immediately looked grateful. “Spiderman,” one whispered, and Peter nodded, holding one finger up to his mouth.

“Jarvis?” he asked quietly, tilting his head up. No reply.

“They disabled the security on this floor,” one of the women explained. “Including Mr. Stark’s AI.”

Perfect, Peter thought. There went that plan.

He kept his voice cheerful. “Alright. I’m going to go clear a path, and you guys…”

The metallic ‘hiss’ of the door opening filled the room. Peter barely had time to turn before one of the employees shouted a warning. But the bad guys’ guns were already raised. Wait, not guns. They were something, though, and pointed straight at the SI employees, fingers on the triggers.

Peter leapt in front of them, catching the brunt of the…. powder? Yellowish powder exploded in a thick cloud around him, filtering through the fabric of his suit. He could taste it heavy on his tongue, like honey coating his mouth and filling his lungs.

Before the effects of whatever that stuff was could take hold, Peter webbed the rest of the powder cannons away from the mooks. He jumped, landing a flying kick on one’s shoulder and bringing his fist around to catch the other on the cheek. It was quick work to web them to the wall while they recovered, and Peter landed on his feet in front of them.

He wasn’t feeling dizzy or anything yet, so he turned to a middle-aged woman who’s name tag included the title Supervisor. “Can you show me the easiest way to get down to the next floor?” The top section of the Tower was familiar territory, thanks to the times Peter had worked with the Avengers, but he had only seen the lower floors once, on a school trip, and they had stayed on the first three levels. He needed to know what he was working with. “Also where they might be keeping the other employees?”

The woman nodded. “The elevators are shut down, but there’s a back staircase that connects the supply rooms.”

“Great. Let’s get as many people as we can there before-” The back of Peter’s neck tingled and he barely had time to push the woman out of the way of the bullet that was fired in their direction. Another mook was approaching fast, with an actual gun. Peter fired up his webshooters, ready to grab the gun, but there was no need. A red blur flew into the man’s side and he was gone, crashed through the wall in a cloud of dust. A figure rolled out of the resulting hole and climbed to his feet.

“Deadpool?”

The mercenary looked up and broke into a grin that was visible through his mask. “Spidey! Fancy meeting you here. I was just saying I missed seeing that sweet-” Another bullet ricocheted through the office, grazing Deadpool’s shoulder. “On second thought, let’s play catch up later.”

A whole line of mooks poured into the hall, armed and training their weapons half on Deadpool, half on Peter. He could sense the employees moving behind him, and a glance showed that the supervisor was directing them back into a side room. Good. They’d be out of the way. Peter turned his attention back to the enemy, just in time to see Deadpool shoot one in the head. Judging by the silver and gold markings on the man’s vest, he was the leader. Well, mission accomplished, though not as planned.

Peter shot a web up to the ceiling and swung, dodging the bullets that the lower mooks released in response to their leader’s death. He pulled several ceiling tiles down on their heads, incapacitating several while Deadpool went to work, sending bodies flying. Strangely, most only seemed unconscious and not dead.

Peter swung to help the mercenary, aiming a kick to the man behind him, when his stomach gave a sickening lurch and he fell, hitting the tile floor and knocking the breath from his lungs. He struggled to catch his breath, arching off of the floor.

“Spidey!” Deadpool tossed a man aside and ran to Peter, offering him a hand. Peter took it weakly and pulled himself up to a sitting position, stomach cramping fiercely. “What do you need? Water? Doctor? A stripper?”

Peter turned to ask why on earth he’d need a stripper, when something clogged in his throat. He lifted the bottom of his mask up and tried to turn away, coughing, but Deadpool’s hold on him was strong. He ended up hacking right in the man’s face. The knot in his throat unclogged, and to his surprise the yellowish powder from before came out, right into Deadpool’s face. The man in question sucked in a sharp breath, and Peter felt like he had been punched in the gut.

“What-?” Before Deadpool could finish his question, the outside windows exploded inwards and Iron Man swept in. With the leader dead, it didn’t take any time at all to round up the mooks and pile their weapons to the side. Peter struggled to his feet, but by the time he was steady, the skirmish was over. Only then did he hear Iron Man give the all clear and call for the others to come up.

Peter realized that he was leaning on Deadpool for support, and tried to pull away, but a wave of vertigo hit him and then the floor was rushing up towards him, fast.

\-----

When he woke, it was to loud voices, a throbbing headache, and an unpleasant cramp somewhere low in his abdomen. He was laid out on one of the tacky SI break room couches, left arm hanging off the side and draping to the floor. With a groan, he opened his eyes.

“Spiderman,” Bruce said, voice relieved. He was the Avenger that Peter had had the most contact with, and the one who liked him the most. The only one he was on first name basis with (and it had nothing to do with that tiny crush he had had on the older scientist, of course not). Peter sat up shakily and looked at him.

“Bruce? What happened?”

“You blacked out,” Cap answered for him. His cowl was gone, leaving his blonde hair in perfect disarray, other than a small cut on his cheek, he looked fine.

“Blacked out?” Peter parroted. The aches in both his head and his gut were getting stronger, and he wanted to just go home and sleep for about three years.

“Were you hit with anything?” Iron Man asked, still in his suit. His voice was off, even through the distortion of the speakers.

Peter shook his head. “What? No, I’m fine. Wasn’t even grazed with a single bullet.”

“That’s not what he meant,” Black Widow cut in. Peter resisted the urge to gulp as she turned her gaze to him. He could feel her piercing stare even through his mask. “Were you hit with anything? A gas, maybe, or a liquid…?”

“What about that freaky powder shit?”

At the sound of the new voice, Peter’s stomach gave a twitch, along with, embarrassingly enough, his dick. The voice was familiar, but Peter felt like he was hearing it for the first time. It was rough and gravelly, loud but somewhat unsure still. Peter turned his head and saw red and black in the corner. Before he knew it, he was standing.

Cap placed a stern hand on Peter’s shoulder and gave Deadpool a sharp look. “Powder? What powder?”

Deadpool scratched the back of his head through his mask and spoke again, the sound flowing through Peter’s ears melodically. “Before I came in, I was watching through the vents, and those bad guys shot Spidey with like a bath bomb, only it exploded- poof!- with no water.” Peter nodded frantically, agreeing with anything Deadpool said. Maybe he’d look that way if Peter backed his story up. He really, suddenly, wanted to see Deadpool’s eyes.

“Did he inhale any?” Bruce asked. Deadpool nodded.

“Had to. Later I saved all your asses by taking out the leader, y’know, and then Webhead here fell and like a total gentleman I kicked a guy out of the way to go help him up.” Peter chuckled somewhat absentmindedly. Deadpool could be the strangest gentleman ever sometimes. “And then the Itsy Bitsy Spider started hacking up really bad and poof, yellow powder shit flew right into my face. Kinky, but it kinda tasted good.”

Cap tightened his hand on Peter’s shoulder and made him sit. He went, but with a whine of protest. He didn’t want to sit. Cap turned away, hand still holding him down. “Tony…”

“Holy fucking shit…. really?”

“Really what?” Deadpool snapped. “Was it some sort of virus? Is Spidey sick?”

“Not exactly….”

Bruce appeared in front of Peter with a glass of water. “Drink this.” Peter frowned but took it. He didn’t want to, but Bruce was a doctor. Bruce was smart, and he’d know things. So Peter downed the entire glass.

The sickly sweet taste that Peter hadn’t even known was in his mouth washed away with the water, and his head cleared some. He blinked and looked up at Bruce. “What is going on?”

“You were hit by a very powerful chemical compound,” Bruce explained quietly. “The ingredients may be Asgardian in origin, or perhaps even somewhere farther off.”

Peter nodded. The stuff he had inhaled. “What does it do?” He had expected a paralytic agent maybe, or poison, but he didn’t feel like that had been introduced into his system. He felt stupid and needy, but what he needed, he couldn’t quite tell.

“He coughed a lot of it up, so maybe it didn’t get to him?”

There was that voice. That’s what Peter needed.

“It was a very strong, alien aphrodisiac,” Bruce said, half glancing at Deadpool before returning his worried gaze to Peter.

“Aphrodisiac?” Peter asked distantly.

“So what, like a love potion?” Deadpool asked, crossing his arms.

“More like alien viagra,” Iron Man corrected. That shocked Peter out of his daze.

“What?!”

“Sorry kid, but it’s true.”

Peter gripped Bruce’s arm tightly. “What does he mean?”

Bruce sighed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. That movement usually made Peter’s heart skip a beat, but now… nothing. The ache in his gut stayed the same. “As far as I can tell, each gun had several packets of the stuff. Once the packet was deployed, the target would inhale the chemical. It multiplies in the body fast, and within a few minutes seeks another host. The first person coughs the chemical up, and if a second person inhales it, somehow the chemical makes the two…” he awkwardly fiddled with his collar, “develop an intense desire for sexual intercourse with the other.”

“So you two have to fuck,” Iron Man summarized. Cap elbowed him hard enough for him to feel even in the suit. “What? No sense sugar coating it. They don’t exactly have all the time in the world.”

“What does that mean?” Deadpool asked, voice hesitant. Peter did his best to listen to the answer and not focus on the ache that flared inside of him when he glanced at the mercenary.

“If you don’t have sex, you die,” Black Widow said evenly. Peter blanched.

“What?”

“Of course, you probably won’t,” Bruce added, nodding to Deadpool. “But Spiderman….”

“He’ll… die?” Deadpool’s shoulders slumped. “What the hell?”

Peter groaned, dropping his head in his hands. It pounded fiercely, making him gasp.

“The chemical is already affecting him more than the others,” Bruce said tersely. “His metabolism acts faster, so it’ll hit him hard and fast.”

“Can’t his metabolism just work it out?”

“No!” Peter shouted, clutching at his head. “No, I- I need, I have to…” he babbled.

“It’s okay.” Bruce’s hands were replaced with someone else’s. Even with the suit in the way, the touch immediately calmed the raging storm in Peter’s head. He slowly looked up, catching Deadpool’s mask right in front of him. “Okay. Fine. If you’re sure it’ll help.”

“You don’t seem to have any trouble flirting with him,” Iron Man said snidely. “Don’t act like you’re making a big sacrifice for him.”

“Tony,” Cap said firmly, unarguably an order with his tone alone. His face swam into Peter’s line of sight. “Are you okay with this?”

Peter nodded.

“Okay. Follow me. There’s a room you can use.”

Peter didn’t even get a chance to try to stand, before Deadpool scooped him up as if he weighed nothing. He just barely resisted the urge to snuggle against that broad, spandex-clad chest. He did let himself bury his face in Deadpool’s shoulder, trying to quell the nausea he felt at all of the sudden movement.

Suddenly they stopped.

“In here. Jarvis will lock the door, and keep it locked until the symptoms pass.” Cap hesitated, and Peter peeked at him during the pause. Finally Cap sighed. “Do what you have to. But Wade….” He squared his shoulders. “This is for Spiderman’s life. No matter what, we all know that.”

Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a resounding click.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sex chapter, so be sure to pay attention to the warnings I gave in the previous chapter, in case sex pollen isn't their style.
> 
> Also I say this is the sex chapter, but the first 2000 or more words aren't sex at all? This chapter really got away from me. It's 1:30 in the morning.
> 
> Can also be found on my tumblr [here](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/122655764260/not-good-chapter-2).

“Well that was ominous,” Deadpool said cheerfully. Peter peeled himself away from the man’s shoulder so he could look around the room they had entered. It had obviously been an office, judging by the desk and filing cabinet that had been haphazardly shoved into the corner. The widows to the outside and to the hall had been covered up, and in the middle of the room a cot was set up. Peter stared at it until Deadpool put him down on his feet.

“Well. It’s not home, but that’s probably a good thing,” he said offhandedly, hovering back as Peter inspected the cot. “My place is a dump. I’d definitely be worried about you catching something there. Oh but don’t worry, I don’t have anything. Besides the cancer, but that’s not contagious. And the voices in my head, but they promise to be ni- what are you doing?” Deadpool’s voice rose a few octaves as Peter stripped the lower half of his uniform off.

“Too hot…” Peter mumbled. The fresh air on his skin cleared his head a little and he looked up. “Jarvis?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’re not recording this, right?”

There was a pause. “It is protocol for me to record every room of the Tower for security.”

Peter frowned. “Please, Jarvis. I can’t…” he looked down, touching his mask. He knew the Avengers would learn his identity some day, but this wasn’t how he wanted it to go. He didn’t want them to find out like this.

“Very well, sir.” Jarvis was quiet for a moment. “Recording is off. Though I am afraid I cannot remove myself, as Mr. Stark has installed me in the entire building.”

“That’s fine. Thank you Jarvis.”

“Of course sir. If you or Mr. Wilson require anything, please ask.”

“Well that’s good.” Deadpool’s voice was right next to Peter, and he nearly jumped. He hadn’t even noticed the other man’s approach. “So… uh. This is weird. I mean I won’t lie, there was a fantasy or two, but I never thought…”

Peter stopped listening at that point, because that gravelly voice was doing things to the knot in his stomach. It made his skin burn, aching fiercely, and he gripped at the top of his suit, tugging ineffectively. “Please, help me….”

“Yeah, yeah, I got you baby boy.” Peter swallowed at the nickname and sighed in relief when Deadpool’s gloved fingers slipped under the edge of his suit, carefully coaxing it up and over Peter’s head. Cool air hit his chest and he bit back a groan.

“Deadpool,” Peter pleaded desperately. Those gloved hands didn’t head for his mask, though, leaving him feeling suffocated by fabric that suddenly felt too thick to handle. “Please.”

“Wade.” Peter titled his head at the tone of voice. It was one he hadn’t yet heard Deadpool use before, soft and hesitant. “Obviously everyone knows my name. I have it listed in the phonebook. But since we…” he gestured to the room.

“Wade,” Peter corrected happily.

“Okay, so… Spidey-“

“Peter.”

“What?”

Peter slipped his mask off with ease, like it had never even mattered in the first place. “My name is Peter. Peter Parker. You let me use your name, so…”

Wade was quiet, obviously staring. The fuzzy feeling in Peter’s head lifted some, and he was suddenly aware that he was standing in his underwear in front of Deadpool, giving away his identity. He had a brief moment to panic before the taste of honey came back and he was floating once again.

Peter sat on the edge of the cot and took Wade’s hand, trying to tug him closer. “Wade, can I…?” he motioned to Wade’s uniform. He wanted, no needed to see Wade. To have skin bared.

Before Peter could touch the hem of Wade’s top, Wade snatched his wrist up in a harsh grip. Peter winced and Wade’s grip immediately loosened, but he didn’t let go. “Wait Spid- Petey. Peter. Wait.” He shifted on his feet. “It’s probably best if we do this with as many clothes on as possible. Better that way, you’re less likely to barf on me. Totally not sexy, being barfed on. Trust me, I know… what?”

Peter was shaking his head frantically. “No, no we- we can’t.” He gripped at his hair, tugging lightly and trying to get his brain to focus. “No. I don’t think that will work,” he said once he could form a complete sentence. Whatever that chemical was, its effects were ridiculously strong. Even with the change in his system thanks to the spider bite, Peter was having trouble fighting against them. “I feel… I need skin contact.” He released his hair and looked up at Wade. “Please Wade.”

“Holy Bambi, Batman. Those puppy dog eyes you’ve got going there are dangerous. You could weaponize that and make a killing- literally and figuratively if you think about it.”

“Wade.” Peter cut into his rambling. “Please? I think it’s getting worse…”

“Right yeah, okay.” Wade began pulling off his belt, dropping weapons to the floor. Peter felt the knot in his chest ease up and he leaned back on the cot. Wade hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his suit, but hesitated. Peter sat back up, a sudden thought making him frown.

“Wade?” Peter swallowed thickly. “Do you not want to do this?”

“Are chimichangas the greatest thing in the world?” Wade didn’t wait for Peter to reply before he continued. “Am I the funniest man in the world? Is Logan an asshole? The answer is yes. Of course I want to do this baby boy. I mean who wouldn’t? Have you seen your ass in spandex?”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I know you’ve seen my scars,” Wade said after a moment. “But you’ve never gotten the full effect of all this.” He motioned to himself. “Trust me, it’ll definitely be enough to turn you off, weird space sex pollen or not. Or at least give you nightmares after.”

Peter shook his head. “It won’t.” He thought his next words through, standing up. “I’ve seen your scars, yeah.” Barely, since Wade was always careful, but with the way he fought, it was inevitable that Peter would see him with his suit in tatters, skin peeking through. The scars were… odd. They fluxuated, never staying the same. They looked painful, but… if Peter were being honest, he found them interesting. Secretly, in that tiny corner of the back of his mind, where his deepest secrets were, he had always been curious about them, wanted to see them. “They won’t bother me. I promise, Wade.” Peter bit his lip and looked up under his eyelashes.

“Okay, now you’re just doing that on purpose,” Wade accused. He looked away with a sigh. “Fine, but when the pollen wears off, just remember that you asked for this. No puking on me when you come to your senses.”

Peter nodded sharply, reaching once again for Wade’s suit, but he was cut off for a second time. “I’ll do it. Just make yourself comfortable, Petey-pie,” Wade said, voice high with false cheerfulness.

Peter frowned, but did as he was told, settling back on the cot and watching as Wade stripped his suit off with quick effectiveness. He kept his head low the whole time, but Peter let his eyes drink in every inch of skin that was revealed to him. It made the ache throb expectantly, settling warmly in his stomach now that it was getting what it needed.

When Wade crawled over Peter, clad only in his mask, Peter had to chuckle. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you go commando under there.”

Peter could practically feel Wade cocking a brow challengingly. “I don’t see how you stand it. All the chafing.”

Peter looked sheepish as he explained. “I did, at first. But after the second time the suit ripped and I swung around town flashing everyone I designed my own underwear. It doesn’t chafe.”

“Neeeerd,” Wade drawled. “Nerds are hot though. You in school?”

“Well yeah,” Peter nodded. “I’m a Junior.”

“I knew it. You have that feel about you. All educated and stuff.” Peter laughed, and Wade chuckled with him, and then Wade’s thigh brushed along Peter’s and he gasped. Brought back to the matter at hand, he gently touched Wade’s arm. The scars were rough under his fingertips, surrounded by smoother skin and covering solid muscle that made Peter a little envious.

Wade seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for Peter’s reaction, so he smiled and ran his hand higher up on Wade’s arm. His fingers slid over Wade’s shoulder and the older man sucked in a sharp breath. Peter wished he could see Wade’s face, so he could guess what he was thinking.

Licking his lips, Peter asked, “Can you take off your mask? Please,” he added softly.

Wade removed the mask without a word, but before Peter could see more than a small glimpse of bright blue eyes, he found himself flipped over. Wade positioned him on his hands and knees, legs spread.

“It’ll be easier to prepare you this way,” Wade said, though Peter wasn’t sure if that was an explanation or an excuse. Before he could consider it, Wade pulled his underwear down. Peter kicked them off of the bed, knowing he should feel more mortified than he did. He was already hard, cock hanging heavy between his thighs and throbbing just this side of painful. The air on his skin made him groan, and he heard Wade suck in another sharp breath behind him. “Damn baby boy. I knew that ass was nice, but the suit still doesn’t give it justice.”

Peter looked over his shoulder to respond, but Wade cupped his ass roughly, calloused hands kneading firmly. Peter dropped his head down with a silent moan, pushing back into the hands. “Oh god…”

“Nope! Just me,” Wade said, sounding far too smug. Peter had the presence of mind to roll his eyes. “So anyway, let’s see…. Aha!” Wade searched the floor beside the bed until he found a small package. “They really were prepared,” he mused as he opened it to reveal a bottle of lube and several condoms. Peter closed his eyes, letting the reality of the situation wash over him. If he was honest, there were far worse partners than Wade- he might be a crazy killer, but he was attractive and funny, and had never actually tried to really hurt Peter. This just wasn’t the way he had expected his first time to go.

Not that he had really considered it a lot. The whole Spiderman gig kept him busy; he barely had time for friends, let alone a date. Gwen had been nice, and pretty, and understanding about his superhero identity. Peter had almost let himself imagine that it would work between them… and then they both ended up coming out to each other. That had been a conversation that started out awkward and ended up being one of Peter’s favorite high school experiences. So the only person who truly knew him was definitely not someone he could be with. She was his best friend, but nothing more.

Peter wondered what she would say if she knew what he had gotten himself into this time. All thoughts of Gwen flew out the window when he heard the snap of a bottle opening.

“Alright Pete. Gonna get you ready now, okay?”

Peter nodded, nearly keening when one of Wade’s fingers slipped down to brush his entrance.

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you,” Wade assured. Peter tried to do as he was told, but Wade added pressure and clucked his tongue. “You’re going to have to loosen up baby boy. Otherwise this is going to hurt.”

Peter tried again, pressing his head against the cot and taking a deep breath. Wade’s finger circled his rim, and the ache in Peter’s gut fluttered.

One slick finger slid inside Peter and he clenched his fists. He had messed around with himself a little, curious, but it was nothing like this. Wade’s finger was thicker than his, and reached inside further.

“That okay?” Wade asked once he was in up to his knuckle. Peter nearly shook the bed with the force of his nods.

“Yes, perfect, just move,” he begged. As if it sensed that it was about to get what it wanted, the alien feeling inside of him thrummed, making him leak a spot of precome on the sheets. Wade began slow, steady movements. Almost immediately, he added a second finger and began stretching. The added burn made Peter shiver, and he found himself pushing back on Wade’s hand.

In what seemed like no time at all, Wade had three fingers gliding effortlessly in and out of Peter. Peter nearly sobbed, begging when Wade brushed against his prostate. “Wade, c’mon… I’m ready.”

The fingers gently worked out of Peter, and he looked over his shoulder at Wade. His eyes were drawn down Wade’s scarred thighs to his cock, and wow. He was bigger than Peter thought.

“So, uh… condom?” Wade asked, pointedly not looking Peter in the eye. “I mean, I can’t catch anything, and you can’t catch anything from me, but I don’t see why you’d want to-”

“No! No condom.” Peter grasped back for Wade’s arm. “I need to feel you.”

“Damn,” Wade groaned. “That’s definitely going in my brain’s hidden-porn file. Not for any nefarious purpose, I promise you.”

“Wade!”

“Alright! Alright!” Peter shivered again when he heard the bottle cap pop open once more. The subtle sound of Wade slicking himself up was the only warning he got before the older male gripped his hips and positioned himself at Peter’s entrance. “Ready?”

“Yes, Jesus Wade, would you just-” The rest of Peter’s sentence fell short as Wade slid in with one long thrust.

“Holy crap Pete, you’re tight,” Wade grunted. He held perfectly still, his thighs pressed against the back of Peter’s, to let him adjust.

Peter was awash in sensations. The burn was back, stretching him further than a few fingers. At the edge of the pain was a tinge of pleasure, sweet and sharp. The strange ache in his stomach from the chemicals was fluttering, spasming pleasantly and setting his nerves on fire.

“Move, move, move Wade,” Peter realized he was chanting. Wade chuckled, probably at his impatience, and carefully began moving. Each thrust rocked Peter forward, moving Wade within him slightly more than the last, building up until Wade was snapping his hips against Peter’s in a steady rhythm. The nearly unbearable need that Peter had been feeling began dissipating faintly, his head clearing more and more.

It was good. That was undeniable. Peter clutched at the sheets, balling them up in his fists as he rocked back against Wade. The rough hold the mercenary had on his hips was just this side of painful, enough to be pleasant. Peter groaned as Wade’s angle changed. It was good, Peter thought.

But it was… impersonal.

He knew that he and Wade weren’t together. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic; it was a literal matter of life and death. But still, Peter couldn’t help but stare at the pillows and wish he could see the mouth that was releasing tiny gasps behind him.

“Wait, stop…”

Wade immediately froze, releasing his hold on Peter’s hips. He gently pulled out of Peter and began scrambling backwards. Peter caught his arm and held him there, turning over on his back. Gently, like he was dealing with a frightened animal, Peter coaxed Wade back between his thighs.

“There.” He wrapped his legs around Wade’s back and hooked his ankles together, leading him back to his entrance. “Better.”

Wade’s hips jerked forward slightly, sliding the head of his erection back into Peter, but he stopped there. “You’re not…? You actually can stand looking at this while we-?” He motioned to his body, his face. Peter wrapped his arms around Wade’s neck.

“Yes. I can.” He dug his heels in Wade’s back, trying to get him to move again. The ache in his stomach was building again. “Please Wade.”

Wade obliged, dropping his head to Peter’s shoulder and snapping his hips forward. He quickly found the rhythm he had had before.

“You’re weird,” Wade accused, voice muffled by Peter’s skin. Peter chuckled.

“I didn’t want my first time to be facing a wall.”

“What?!” Wade stopped again, making Peter cry out as the ache ripped through him angrily.

“Don’t stop.” He gasped. “Holy- move!”

Wade did, but with an incredulous look on his face. “First time? You mean you’ve never?” Peter shook his head and Wade’s face fell. “I’m so… sorry baby boy.” He gripped Peter’s thighs, angling his hips up. His next thrust hit Peter’s prostate squarely, making Peter arch and sob. “First time, and you have to do it with a freak.”

“Not… a freak,” Peter panted. Each thrust had him seeing stars, and his hands scrabbled for purchase on Wade’s back frantically. He could feel it building up, faster and stronger than anything he had done by himself. “Wade, please!” he cried. “I’m almost… I need…”

“I gotcha,” Wade grunted. He reached between them, taking Peter’s neglected erection in hand and stroking in time with his thrusts. The scars on his palms had Peter lifting off the bed, back bowing in nearly a perfect arch. He came with a silent sob, nearly blacking out from the force of it. He was still trembling with the aftershocks when he felt warmth flood inside him. Wade rolled his hips once, twice, three more times before nearly collapsing on Peter. With a groan, he pulled out and flopped down on the cot, breathing heavily.

Peter felt the knot in his chest rattle and loosen. He turned his head and coughed, feeling grit land on his tongue. He wiped it off, leaving a yellow streak on the sheet.

“Better?” Wade asked quietly. Peter nodded.

“Much.” He blinked tiredly and Wade hummed.

“Get some rest, baby boy.”

Peter nodded and rolled over, curling up against Wade.

“Um Pete? What are you doing?”

Peter shushed him. “Resting.”

“You… you want me to go?”

“No!” Peter shook his head. “Stay…. Need…” he yawned.

“Okay.” Wade sounded hesitant, but he wrapped his arms around Peter. “I’ll stay. Go to sleep, okay?”

“Promise you’ll be here when I wake up?”

“…promise.”

Peter slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh.... I'm not sure I like this chapter. I had some writer's block, but I made myself do it anyway. This chapter is more transitional than anything, so if you don't like it rest assured that next chapter will actually have more to it. I just needed to make myself get back into the game or something idk.
> 
> Can also be found on my tumblr [here](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/126650597590/not-good-chapter-3).

Waking up was hell. Peter felt like one big bruise on legs. He whined as he slowly came awake, aware of a light shining down onto his face. He turned, snuggling his face into the warm, broad chest beneath him. At least he was warm, he mused sleepily, brushing his lips over a particularly rough scar that dotted the skin of the man he was cuddled up to…

Peter knew when Wade could feel him tense, responding in kind and slipping out of the bed. Peter bounced on the mattress as his living pillow let him drop, leaving him in a pile of blankets alone. He cracked his eyes open to peer at Wade. The merc was very pointedly facing away from Peter, and appeared to be searching for his suit. Peter couldn’t help but look lower, at Wade’s scarred ass. Was he always that muscled?

Hang on, this was Wade. Deadpool. Peter wasn’t really gawking at his ass, was he?

He sat up sharply, but winced. Holy crap, he was sore! The alien chemical had left him feeling faintly like he had the flu, but it was much better than it had been. His stomach ached from cramping so badly, and his rear… Peter, bit his lip and tore his eyes away from Wade. That had happened.

“Where’re my clothes?” Wade grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Your suits have been cleaned and are free of all remaining chemicals,” Jarvis answered. Wade only jumped a little at the sudden voice. “Safety showers have been set up in the hall, to hopefully get rid of any trace of the chemical.”

“How are the others? Other people got hit with the chemical stuff, right?” Peter asked. Wade still didn’t look at him.

“It appears that the effects of the chemicals have all subsided. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner have run several blood samples, and there appear to be no lasting conditions.”

Peter sighed. At least they didn’t have to worry about any more side effects. He glanced at Wade’s back. No physical side effects, anyway.

With some effort, Peter struggled to his feet. “Shower?” he asked. Wade grunted and headed for the door. Peter hobbled after him, thankful that no one else seemed to be around. The offices were still trashed from the battle of the previous day, with chairs overturned and papers scattered everywhere. The hallway was taken up by tall yellow hazmat showers. They only held one person at a time, so Peter stepped into one and Wade took another.

Peter groaned obscenely when he turned the water on and it hit his back. The hot water soothed his aches and washed away the sticky sweat from the battle, and… He blushed and refused to continue that train of thought. He could actually consider it later, when he was less sore and also wasn’t right next to a wet, naked Wade, only separated by the plastic walls of the temporary shower.

When Peter finally finished scrubbing down and stepped out of the shower, Wade was dressed and sitting in a slightly beat up office chair. Peter grabbed his clean suit and hurriedly slipped it on. The mask was a relief; he knew the Avengers were going to learn his identity now, but it was going to be on his terms. His terms said that he was not facing them now, with a sore ass and an empty stomach.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” he blurted. Wade’s head snapped up.

“What?”

“I could go for some Taco Bell,” Peter hedged. Wade’s mask tugged down like it did when he frowned. “Tacossssss,” he tried again. Wade was still staring.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he said finally. Peter nodded.

“Mr. Stark asked for you to remain in the tower until he and Dr. Banner can assure that the both of you are in good health,” Jarvis chimed in. Peter crossed his arms.

“I feel fine. And I need some time, J. Tell ‘em we’ll be back.” He glanced at Wade. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

“Very well,” Jarvis replied, but Peter was already headed out of the room, Wade in tow.

\-----

“Ah, shit,” Peter hissed, gingerly climbing to his feet, taco in one hand. He and Wade were on a rooftop, and he had tried unsuccessfully to perch on the edge like he usually did without aggravating his soreness. Wade looked up from his seat.

“You okay Spidey?” he asked softly. Peter blushed under the mask.

“Yeah, just, um… a little sore,” he admitted. Wade was quiet- Wade Wilson, actually quiet!- before standing.

“Want me to take you home?”

Peter grimaced. “Not really, my a- oh shoot.” He dropped his head. With everything that had happened, he had forgotten to call Aunt May and tell her he was going to be gone all night. “My aunt, I live with her. If she sees me acting sore, she’s gonna be suspicious.” He looked at Wade. “She doesn’t know, about…” he gestured to himself. “She’s gonna flip anyway because I forgot to call her. Better set up an alibi…” He pulled his phone out and pressed it to his ear. “C’mon, Harry. Pick up… Shoot. He’s not answering. I was gonna crash at his.”

“Listen, I’ve got an apartment near here. Why don’t you come with me and stay until you feel better?” Wade offered.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Tell Spidey-Aunt that you’re at a buddy’s or something.”

Peter bit his lip. He really didn’t want to go home at the moment. He was pretty sure that Aunt May had some idea of what was going on, but going home in the state he was in would only bring up awkward questions. He nodded.

\-----

“It’s not much. It’s just a spare apartment. But hey, that means it’s cleaner than the apartment I actually live in,” Wade babbled as Peter gingerly made his way into the living room. He sank down on the couch with a sigh.

“It’s nice, Wade. Thanks for, y’know, letting me stay.”

“No problem baby boy. Need anything?” Wade wandered into the kitchen. “Want a beer?”

“Ah, no thanks. I’m not fond of beer. And I’m not old enough yet.

Wade’s laugh floated in from the kitchen. “Way to make me feel old. Won’t be long though.”

Peter rolled his eyes and swiped a taco from their box of food. He tossed his mask to the side and took a bite. He nearly whimpered happily; he was starving.

“Here.” Wade came back into the room with a pair of sweats and a shirt. “Taco Bell is a bitch to get out of spandex.”

“Thanks.”

As he changed, Wade very pointedly didn’t look. Peter frowned. Not that he thought he was all that good looking- he was skinny and probably covered in bruises- but Wade was always going on about his ass or how he looked in spandex. Peter had expected him to at least take a peek. Was it weird that he was slightly disappointed that the older man didn’t? How were you supposed to act when you had to sleep with someone thanks to alien sex drugs? He doubted there was a ‘thank you for sleeping with me to save my life’ Hallmark card.

Hell, Peter wasn’t even sure how he felt, let alone how he was _supposed_ to feel. He took a moment to consider it as he pulled the borrowed shirt over his head. He was sore, obviously, but he knew that it could have been worse if Wade hadn’t known what he was doing. And true, Peter would have liked a little more choice about when he lost his virginity, and to whom, but he liked Wade well enough. Once you got past the crazy mercenary part, there was a lot more to the man that most people realized. He was witty enough to naturally play off Peter’s banter, and he knew all of the pop culture references that Peter threw out. It didn’t hurt that he was well-built, either. Peter bit his lip, flashes of the day before going through his mind. It definitely didn’t hurt.

Overall, Peter thought it definitely could have been worse. He could totally act like nothing had happened from now on. No doubt Wade would, if maybe with a few more lewd comments than usual, but Peter heard stories. Wade wasn’t exactly shy about sleeping with someone, and had apparently had a few one night stands. They could go back to normal now.

Or so he thought.

Once he was dressed, Wade joined him on the couch. Kind of, anyway. Wade took the far end of the couch, leaving a wide distance between them as they munched on their tacos. Usually Wade was all in Peter’s space, brushing against him or draping an arm over his shoulders; now his limbs were very carefully tucked to his sides, no longer gesturing widely as he talked. He didn’t even try to steal the last taco from Peter while he ate.

Peter crumpled the taco wrapper into a tight ball and tossed it into the box. He was confused. Wade was quieter than usual, and stiller. That sort of quiet tenseness was unnatural on him, and it gave Peter an uneasy feeling. He finally cut into Wade’s unusually timid story about the time mall security tried to take his katanas from him.

“Did you not like yesterday?” Peter blurted. Wade stopped midsentence and turned towards him.

“…What?”

Peter flushed and found himself wishing for his mask. “Yesterday. After the alien chemicals. You said you wanted it, right? Did you change your mind?”

“Why would you say that?”

Peter shrugged. “You’re just acting strange,” he said defensively.

Wade stood abruptly, scattering taco wrappers to the floor. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t leave until I get back.” Then he was gone, before Peter could even reply. The unease he felt doubled. He had never heard Wade speak so abruptly; usually the mercenary rambled on and on. Maybe something actually was bothering Wade. Peter drew his legs up under him and slumped down on the couch. He was stuck there in the apartment anyway, unable to go home yet. All he could do was wait for Wade to get back from wherever it was he was going.

\-----

Peter hated waiting.

He could spend hours in the school art building, painstakingly developing his photos in the dark room that the art teacher sometimes secretly let him use. He didn’t mind lingering at the bus stop when something happened (as always) to make it run late. He easily stayed perched on the rooftops every night on patrol, watching and listening for any sign that his help was needed.

This, though? This was making him nervous.

Ten minutes after Wade took off, Peter received a message on his phone from him, telling him to make himself at home. He had nearly forgotten that he had given Wade his number a few weeks prior, a move that he thought he would regret as soon as he had done it. He expected to be kept up all night with Wade’s usual tall tales and dirty jokes. Instead, he had been treated to the occasional message hello and suggestions on back alley food joints that, when Peter dared to try them, actually turned out pretty decent. There were jokes, but mostly groan-inducing puns. Nothing exceptionally dirty, and certainly not what he had expected. He hadn’t actually regretted giving Wade his number at all.

Peter pocketed his phone and, curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to poke around the apartment. It was pretty standard; kitchenette, bathroom, one bedroom. It was fairly obvious that no one had actually been living there for a while. Everything was clean, but unused. The fridge didn’t have much besides a few beers and sodas. Peter grabbed a Coke and sipped it as he peeked into the bedroom.

It was decently-sized, bigger than Peter’s room back home. The bed was made, but the covers were slightly rumpled, like someone had laid down on top of them for a quick rest. A spare box of ammo spilled out onto the floor; Peter’s foot brushed a few lone bullets as he padded over to the bed and perched on the edge carefully. He nudged a bullet over with his toe.

“Wouldn’t be his apartment without some kind of weapon or something,” he mused aloud. Biting his lip, he put his drink down on the dresser and flopped on the bed, head hitting the pillow. He grunted, lifting his shoulder up and pulling out a pocket knife he had landed on. He let it fall to the floor with a ‘thunk’ and grinned. His grin turned to chuckles, and he buried his face in the pillow and wondered what his life had come to.

\-----

It was late when Peter’s phone buzzed again. He had wandered back into the living room and discovered that the apartment had cable, so he had turned on some mindless tv and resolutely did not think about how he should be at home, doing schoolwork. He was allowed one day to slack off, he decided, and curled up on the couch for a few hours. He grabbed his phone when it went off and read the message.

_Kid, come back to the Tower so Bruce can check you over before he has an aneurysm_

Just in case Peter had any doubts about who had sent it, the message ended with a little cartoon Iron Man waving up at him. He didn’t question how Iron Man had gotten his number- he had probably had it since the Avengers had unofficially taken him in as back up.

With a yawn, Peter rolled off the couch and onto his feet. He stretched, a few joints popping as he reached for the ceiling. It was amazing what a few hours’ worth of rest could help his advanced healing do. He wasn’t sore at all anymore, with only the faintest tinge left over from the previous day. He didn’t have to look to know that the bruises on his hips and thighs were gone.

Wade still hadn’t returned or messaged, so Peter scrounged up a pen and flattened a napkin from their Taco Bell leftovers out to write a note. After explaining where he was going, Peter put the napkin in full view on the counter, hoping the merc would see it.

Now that he was feeling better, Peter decided that there was no way he was walking to the Tower. He stripped his borrowed clothes off and folded them on the couch. He had to admit, they were more comfortable than the suit, though it felt good to be back in it. He considered ‘borrowing’ the warm sweats and soft shirt, but he wouldn’t put it past Wade to track him down just to get them back or something equally dramatic…

Biting his lip, Peter threw the shirt in his backpack and zipped it up, feeling creepy. Before he could change his mind, he saluted to the empty apartment and crawled out of the window.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! Wow, I am so sorry guys. It's been for freaking ever since I updated this. I swear, I have no intention of abandoning this fic. I will see it through to the end. But, for those of you who don't know, I have severe rheumatoid arthritis. I had a flare-up, and couldn't type at all. It really sucked. Thankfully, my doctor adjusted my medicines and I'm doing better. So I got this chapter done as soon as I was able to. It's not quite as long as the others, but I'm still proud of it. I know I don't really have the right, but I want to ask anyone who's reading to not give up on this story. Updates will come more now that my flare-up is over.
> 
> Chapter can also be found on my tumblr [here](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/142411952175/not-good-chapter-4).

Peter angled for Bruce’s floor, figuring that the man was waiting for him in his lab. Peter grinned when Jarvis slid a window open for him, proving him right, and ducked into the familiar lab. Bruce was sitting alone, typing away at a tablet. Peter appreciated the privacy, but he was under no illusions that Iron Man wasn’t watching through Jarvis’ cameras.

Throwing himself in an office chair, Peter rolled over to Bruce’s side. Bruce glanced up with a faint smile, eyes even more tired than usual. He flicked the power button on the tablet and placed it aside.

“Spiderman,” he greeted, tilting his head towards the teen. “You look like you feel much better than the last time I saw you.”

Peter was glad for the mask hiding his blush. “Yeah… I feel fine.”

“Do you?” Bruce leveled Peter with a look that he couldn’t interpret. He fought the urge to fidget under that scrutiny, plucking at a hole on the side of the suit that he hadn’t noticed the day before. He made a mental note to fix it before he had to go out on patrol again and looked at Bruce. Bruce rested his chin on his hands and licked his lips, momentarily distracting Peter (he was a teenager with a crush after all). Which was why he was completely caught off guard by the scientist’s next words. “As far as we know, you shouldn’t have any physical complications from the chemical. But once we’re finished with the blood work here, I can get in contact with a trauma counselor, if you need someone to talk to.”

Peter gaped, at a loss for words, before swallowing thickly. “Why?”

Bruce just stared at him.

“I really am okay,” Peter insisted. He rubbed at his nose through his mask. “Yeah, it really sucks that I didn’t have a choice. Especially considering…” he flushed, looking down. Bruce made a concerned noise and Peter decided to suck up his embarrassment. “Especially considering it was my first time.” He chanced a look up at Bruce and winced at the worry he saw there. “But I’m okay!” he said quickly. He lowered his voice. “I know it sounds like I’m in denial, and if I were anyone else I would agree with you. But I wasn’t, like, saving myself. And I like Wa- uh, Deadpool. Odd as that sounds.”

Bruce huffed a laugh at that, plucking his glasses off of his nose and polishing them on his shirt. “I believe you. I’ve not had much to do with him myself; all of our interactions are based on the Other Guy’s feelings. But he’s helped us out before, and I’ve heard that he’s been acting different lately.”

“I might have had a little to do with that. I gave him a bit of a dressing down about his behavior, and I honestly think he’s doing better.”

“I think so too.” Bruce put his glasses back on and sat back in his chair with a sigh. “But liking someone, and being attracted to them are two different things.”

Peter twirled his chair around, pointedly not answering the unspoken question.

“That doesn’t seem to be the problem,” Bruce observed, amusement coloring his voice. Peter shook his head lightly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Ah, I know. You don’t have to worry about that,” Peter assured him. “I’m fine with it, haven’t worried about my orientation since I was fourteen.” He frowned, taken aback by a sudden thought. “Wait, I know there were others who were affected by the chemicals. Are they…?”

The amusement fell off of Bruce’s face and he nodded. “They’ve all been seen by trauma counselors. And Tony is going to get them all the appointments they need for the foreseeable future.”

That was good. Peter might have been handling the whole situation well, but he knew not everyone would have gotten lucky and ended up with someone they not only liked but also trusted. It didn’t come as a shock for Peter to realize that he trusted Wade. It had been a slowly building fact in the back of his mind for a while now, especially since Wade had saved his life multiple times over the past few months.

Bruce stood and retrieved a tray with several vials. “Ready to get this over with?”

Peter sighed. “Promise that no one else will get a hold of it? If anyone tried to reverse engineer the formula in it, well… You remember Dr. Connors, and the giant lizard that was terrorizing the city for a while?” Bruce nodded. “It was his research that made me like this. Not exactly the same, but an offset of it that he was working on.”

“I promise, no one but me will have access to your blood, and I’ll destroy the samples once I’m done making sure you’re healthy,” Bruce promised.

“I have all the levels and information stuff from when I’m uninjured. It’s different than normal people’s.”

“That would be helpful.” Bruce got the needle ready and opened a few alcohol wipes.

Peter slipped his gloves and web slingers off, setting them on the desk. He touched the edge of his mask, and hesitated. “I have an aunt,” he said quietly. “The reason I haven’t revealed my identity yet to SHIELD is to protect her.”

“I can’t promise anything for sure, but I do know that Tony has no intention of revealing your identity to SHIELD at the moment. Steve either.”

“Okay.” Peter exhaled and pulled his mask off, running a hand through his hair. He unlatched the top of the suit at his shoulders, peeling it down off of one arm far enough that Bruce could get to the crook of his elbow to draw blood.

Bruce, the awesome guy, didn’t stare, or give any indication that this was the first time he had seen Peter’s face in all the months they had been having at least weekly conversations and working together several times a month. Peter bit his lip as Bruce took his arm in hand, the first actual skin-to-skin contact they had ever had. God, he was pathetic when he had a crush.

He ignored the low throb of guilt he felt at that, mind flashing back to Wade. He had nothing to do with Peter’s dumb crush on Bruce.

“Glad to see you’re not injured.”

Peter looked up, barely noticing when Bruce rubbed the alcohol wipe over his skin. “Yeah. I had a few bruises, but I heal fast.”

“That happens a lot around here,” Bruce said with a wry grin. “Here comes the stick,” he warned, before Peter felt the sting of the needle. He grimaced, but it was nothing compared to what he faced on a weekly basis.

Bruce swapped the full vial for an empty one. “Almost done,” he assured.

“Thanks for this, Bruce,” Peter said with a sigh.

“It’s nothing.” Bruce pressed down on Peter’s elbow and removed the needle. He took it to a hazardous materials container and dropped it in. Peter thought about asking why that was in one of Iron Man’s labs, but then he remembered that it was Tony Stark they were talking about, so it made sense.

Peter slipped the suit back up over his shoulders while Bruce took the full vials over to one of the many machines that lined the lab and put them in to be analyzed.

“Ah, here’s the information on my normal healthy levels,” Peter said, picking a chip out of a hidden pocket sewn in the inside of his suit. He borrowed Bruce’s tablet and plugged the memory chip in, bringing up several files. “I’m trusting you with this,” he said seriously. “You’re the first person other than me to ever see this information.”

Bruce gave Peter an unreadable look, and nodded after a long moment. “I understand. Out of all of the team, I understand this the most.” He grinned wryly. “The army has been after my DNA for… a long time.” Gently, he brought his hand up, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “I won’t let any of this information leave this room. You have my word, Spiderman.”

“P-peter,” came the stuttered reply. Bruce’s hand was warm on Peter’s shoulder, and he was standing so very close… Peter prayed he wasn’t blushing. “My name is Peter Parker.”

Bruce’s smile softened. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Peter,” he said. Peter returned the smile with one of his own.

“You too… Bruce.”

The machine holding the vials of Peter’s blood beeped, and Bruce pulled away to go swap the vials around so they could be shaken. _Separating the blood cells from the plasma_ , Peter thought to himself. Anything to keep from replaying Bruce’s words over and over in his head. _It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Peter._

Once again, Peter prayed he wasn’t bushing. This whole not-wearing-his-mask thing could get really embarrassing, really quickly. He pushed down the embarrassment, along with the slight pang of guilt. Why, oh why, did Wade have to keep popping up in his head now that he finally had some time alone with Bruce?

“…high school?”

Peter was brought out of his (confusing) thoughts by the sound of Bruce’s voice. He looked up, confused. Bruce repeated the question.

“I take it you’re still in high school?”

Hesitantly, Peter nodded. “I was fifteen when I became Spiderman,” he admitted.

“Barely even in high school,” Bruce said, a touch of sadness in his voice. Peter shrugged.

“It’s not been anything I couldn’t handle,” he said. Bruce gave him a smile.

“That’s true. You’ve done well, working on your own. Especially considering your age.” At Peter’s huff, he chuckled. “I don’t mean to look down on you because you’re young. But consider it this way: would you want your classmates to have to go through the kind of things you’ve faced?”

Reluctantly, Peter had to admit that Bruce had a point. He couldn’t imagine anyone he went to school with going out almost every night, fighting bad guys, facing down mutant lizards and aliens and whatever else the world threw at him. Maybe Gwen, but she was amazing. So she didn’t count.

“Alright… I see what you’re saying,” Peter said petulantly. “But I think I’ve proven that I can handle things.”

“That you have,” Bruce agreed. He picked the tablet up, studying the information that Peter had stored there. He hummed as his eyes trailed slowly over the figures, taking it all in. “Very interesting…”

“Am I gonna live, doc?” Peter asked with a grin. Bruce rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Yes, Peter. You’re going to live.”

“Good,” Peter said, relaxing back in his chair. “It would suck to die now. Especially since I’m only seventeen.”

“You’re _what_?”

Peter whipped his head around at the voice that he recognized, ridiculously easily, as Wade’s. Sure enough, he stood at the door to the lab, tension visible even through his Deadpool suit. Faintly, Peter realized that Tony was flanking him, looking equal parts pissed at the intrusion, and curious at the sight of Peter’s face. Behind both of them stood a woman Peter had never met. But his eyes were on Wade.

“I’m… um..” Peter stuttered, face growing bright red. “I told you, I’m a Junior.”

“In high school?” Wade asked, voice emotionless.

“Yeah… you thought…?” Peter felt like he had been punched in the gut. Wade had thought he was a _college_ student.

Wade turned, walking away briskly. Peter jumped out of his chair, cursing as his suit slipped down. By the time he had hoisted it back up in place, Wade was gone, bypassing the elevator and thundering down the stairs. Peter stared down the hall, a sense of despair falling over him.

That sensation was quickly replaced by pain shooting out from his ear. “Ow, ow, ow…” he hissed.

“Shut up, asshat. We have to talk,” a reedy voice said. The woman who had been standing in the doorway had sidled up next to Peter, snatching his ear in her grasp and pulling him down to her level. The change in angle allowed him to see past her sunglasses and oh. She was blind. She clucked her tongue. “Not here. Too crowded.” Turning with eerie accuracy, she barked at Tony, “What’s a lady got to do around here to get a ride home.”

Tony looked far too amused for the situation. “My driver can take you home, ma’am,” he said, smirking around the false politeness. “As long as you return the boy back mostly in one piece.”

The woman pinched harder and laughed at Peter’s whimper. “No promises. And you quit your whining. You don’t get to whine to me, boy.”

Peter barely had time to throw Bruce a pleading look before the woman led him out of the room by his ear.

What was his life anymore?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for taking this long. I am trash. You guys, I can't believe you put up with me.
> 
> Heads up, this chapter mentions previous instances of rape and child molestation. Nothing too detailed, but it mentions canon instances of Wade being raped and molested, and Peter being molested as a kid.
> 
> Chapter can also be found [here](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/146538691445/not-good-chapter-5).

The house that the woman- who had introduced herself merely as ‘Blind Al’ and had insisted that Peter call her as such- took them to was small, old, and worn, but well-cared for. The furniture was mismatched and shabby, but spotless. The second they walked in, though, what looked like a brand new shelf sitting in the middle of the small living room very loudly collapsed.

“Fucker,” Al grumbled as she made a carefully wide circle around the mess. “That’s the third time. Boy,” she barked, making Peter jump. “Think you can put a shelf together?”

Peter watched her flop down on a poofy chair. After she made an impatient noise, he stepped forward, looking the pieces over. “I think so,” he decided. “I put one like this together for my aunt once.”

“Good. Make yourself useful while we talk.”

She nudged a toolbag towards him with her foot and he dug out a few screwdrivers. He started picking out the smaller pieces of the shelf and putting them aside to sort through.

“What are we going to talk about, exactly?” he asked, somewhat timidly. Al snorted.

“Wade,” she replied simply. Peter hummed.

“How do you know Wade?”

“I live with him. Sometimes.” That was a surprise. And not what Peter had expected.

“Here?” He looked around the oddly put together room. Al hummed.

“Yes. I know he has a lot of different houses and apartments all over the city, but he comes back here a lot. He lets me live here for cheap rent.” She sighed, propping her feet up on a footstool near her chair.

“Okay. So what about Wade did you want to talk to me about?” Peter asked as he laid the framework for the base of the shelf out. Al was quiet for a moment before replying.

“How much do you know about Wade? About his past?”

“Well… nothing, really,” Peter admitted. Wade had hinted at some bad experiences, but he hadn’t really given much detail or even confirmed that any of it was true. “I mean, he pretends to be this open book, and like he is okay with over sharing, but he isn’t really. He’s actually pretty private.”

Al snorted. “To say the least. Figures that you would have noticed that.” She shifted in her chair. “He said he was spending a lot of time with you. There’s a reason he doesn’t do that often. He doesn’t want people to know him.”

They were silent while that statement sunk in. Peter had figured as much, once he had actually paid attention to Wade instead of running every chance he got. Even so, he still sought Peter out, bringing him tacos while he was on patrol, laughing and joking around with him…

“He says you two fucked.”

Peter choked, dropping the board he had been holding up and getting ready to fasten into place. He swore when it hit his foot, snatching it back up. “He-he did?”

“Not in those exact words,” Al admitted. “But yeah.” She pursed her lips. “He wanted me to talk to you and make sure you were okay.”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Peter snapped. “I’m sick of it!”

Al threw a pillow at him, though it missed, landing a few feet away from him. “Shut up, moron. I’m not asking you if you are. I’m just letting you know what Wade wanted.”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted. “I wasn’t… exactly… against sleeping with him,” he admitted, face heating up. He glanced at Al, but she was merely listening. “I like Wade. He’s a good friend. And he’s, well. I like muscled guys,” he said quickly. Al snorted.

“I get it. Really. But you have to understand something about Wade, to realize why this bothers him.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes behind her shades. “I normally wouldn’t _ever_ tell anyone this. It’s not my place. But I know that Wade won’t tell you, and you _need_ to know if you’re going to keep being around him.”

“Okay…” Peter said slowly.

“Wade was raped.”

The screwdriver slipped from Peter’s hand. He whipped around, looking at Al. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Swallowing thickly, he tried again. “He was _what_?”

“Raped.” Al said softly. “It wasn’t long after I moved in with him.”

“What happened?” Peter asked, barely a whisper.

“There was a girl. I never met her, and can’t for the life of me remember her name. Wade had been interested in her for a while, but she wasn’t. Good friend though, she helped him a little.” Al’s voice was quiet. “She came to him one night, said she had changed her mind. Only, it wasn’t her in the morning. There was a- what was it?- image inducer? Some fancy computer thing that made her look like the girl Wade wanted her to be.”

Peter swallowed. “That’s… horrible.”

“It was,” Al agreed. “Wade… he wasn’t over that for a long time. Not sure if he still is, really. And, well he might not remember everything about his life before Deadpool, but… he’s hinted at child abuse before. Molestation and the like.” She shifted in her chair. “So. That’s why he’s so damn worried about you.”

That put a whole new spin on Wade’s reaction to the incident. Peter’s brow furrowed as he carefully added the shelves on and tightened them down so they wouldn’t fall.

“I understand,” he said quietly. Al made a noise to let him know that she was listening. “I get why he’s so worried. Really. But…” His stomach tightened as he thought about what he was about to admit. “I was molested as a kid,” he blurted quickly. A glance at Al showed that she had raised a brow, but otherwise didn’t respond, letting him gather his thoughts. “Not to trivialize what he went through or anything, I swear. The point is, I remember it. I remember the shame and humiliation I felt afterwards.” Two spots of color appeared on his cheeks. “I didn’t feel that way when I woke up after sleeping with Wade.”

Al laughed, though not unkindly. “Well damn. Sounds like you’re good.” She crossed her hands in her lap. “Don’t worry kid, he’ll come around. And when he does, you can tell him that yourself.”

“I’m not sure he will come around,” Peter admitted with a huff. Al clucked her tongue.

“He will. Trust me. I told you, he likes you.”

Peter wasn’t too sure if that would be enough, but he didn’t say so. He snapped the last piece of shelf into place and gave it a slight shove. It held together, so he put the tools back into the bag and zipped it shut. As he was, a little Rumba slowly crawled across the rug and bumped into his knee, before turning and rolling off further into the house. Peter smiled a little.

“Thank you,” he told Al, climbing to his feet. “For talking to me. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I want Wade to be happy,” she said, looking up in his general direction. “He’s been better since he started hanging around you. If there’s one thing that boy deserves, it’s happiness.”

Peter smiled again. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to make him happy, but I’ll try. He’s a good friend.”

“’Friend’, huh?” Al asked, brows raising slightly.

“Friend,” Peter repeated, blushing. “We haven’t… I mean, there’s not been a chance to talk… I’m not sure he… or I…” Al cut off his babbling.

“I’m teasing, dipshit. It’s fine. I don’t care what you two do. In fact, I’d rather not hear about it. But whatever it is, it makes the both of you happy.”

“Okay… and if he does come by, would you tell him I’d like to talk to him?”

“Sure, kid.” Al nodded. “Thanks for putting that shelf together for me. Maybe it’ll last a week before it falls apart. That would be a new record.” She sat back in her chair once more. “I’d walk you to the door, but I don’t want to.”

“That’s fine,” Peter assured. “I can see myself out.”

He had a lot to consider now. Really, he knew he should go back to the tower, but he was tired. So, sleep, real food, and a shower, then he could think about everything he had learned. And there was only one person he wanted to talk to while he did.

\-----

_[8:52 AM] You’re not in homeroom? GS_

_[9:01 AM] No. I’m taking a recovery day. PP_

_[9:02 AM] I’m on my way. GS_

\-----

Gwen burst through the door before Peter had even managed to open it all the way. She was flushed, panting a little, and had a bag in her arms. She squinted, looking Peter over. “Wait. You look fine. I thought this was a recovery day?” She lifted the bag, which Peter realized was her shit-Peter-hurt-himself first aid bag. He shook his head quickly.

“Not like that. I didn’t mean… no, I’m okay. Physically.”

Gwen sat the bag down, looking understanding. “So a mental wellness day?”

“Kind of.” Peter crossed his arms. “Look, come up to my room and I’ll explain.”

A little while later, he winced as she punched his arm.

“I can’t believe it!” she shouted. Peter rubbed his nose sheepishly.

“I didn’t even know something like that existed, let alone that it could be mass produced or something to use against us.”

“No,” Gwen corrected. “I can’t believe you lost your virginity before me!”

Peter blinked and then laughed. “That’s what you can’t believe? Not the weird crazy sex powder? The unknown forces trying to make the Avengers sleep with each other?”

“Well yeah, all of that stuff too,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes. “But still. You. Before me. Never thought it would happen.” She leaned forward, smirking. “What was it like?”

Peter flushed, shrugging. “I dunno. Good?”

“Good? Come on, Parker, you can do better than that.”

“I mean, yeah, it was great.” Peter fluffed his hair up with one hand. “Like, really nice. Better than I thought my first time would be. Wade really knows what he’s doing.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

At that, Peter faltered a little. “I don’t know,” he admitted softly. “He sort of… ran away when he found out that I’m only 17.”

“But that’s the age of consent in New York,” Gwen pointed out.

“I think it’s the principle of the matter that bothers him.” He plucked at a loose string on his pajama pants. “Plus, the whole, whoops no choice we have to sleep together thing. I mean, he and I were just starting to be friends, you know?”

Gwen patted his shoulder. “He’d be crazy to turn you down, Peter.”

“That’s another thing.” Peter threw his hands up. “I’m not sure I want to be more than friends with him yet. I never really thought about it before this. Well, not seriously.”

“One date doesn’t mean you have to marry the guy. You’ve already slept with him, might as well give him a chance,” Gwen reasoned.

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean it. I’ve never met him, but you kinda brighten up when you talk about him, in case you hadn’t known. So there must be something there.”

“He’s a little… off. Weird.”

“But you like him.” She didn’t say it like it was meant to be a question.

“Yes.”

“So, the next time you talk to him, just suggest you two try a date. You already know he’s good in bed, so you’ve got something to look forward to.”

Peter groaned and hit her over the head with a pillow. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” she corrected, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder. “You’d be a wreck without me.”

“Fine. I would. But you’re still terrible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. C’mon, let’s get some ice cream and you can tell me more about Wade McDreamyMusclePants.”

“Hate you. Seriously.”

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a note, I don't condone telling someone else that you know someone has been raped or molested. If you do not have permission to tell people that someone experienced rape or molestation, don't do it. It's not your place to tell them. Al did it in this fictional story, but don't do it in real life, okay guys? Thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: I tagged this as mildly dubious consent because 1.) the sex pollen and everything that entails, though both do consent it can still get iffy with alien chemicals involved and 2.) at the time Wade doesn't know Peter is only 17 and when he finds out he freaks out a little bit.


End file.
